


a healer's burden

by mindelan



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabbles, trigger warning in author's note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3639825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindelan/pseuds/mindelan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may be a Warden, yes, but first and foremost, he is a healer.</p><p>short drabbles about Anders in Kirkwall before he meets Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a healer's burden

**Author's Note:**

> mentions of death, implied rape and abortion, and pregnancy

Anders doesn’t talk much about his time with the Wardens because he’s pretty sure that if he says the Warden-Commander’s name three times fast, she’ll take him by the ear and drag him back to Amaranthine. 

Sure, Wardens get respect and all, but all _he_ managed to get was possessed by a spirit of justice and his cat taken away.

He doesn’t owe the Wardens anything, though he’d never tell the Warden-Commander that. 

She’s fucking _terrifying._

The smell of fish and death overwhelm him as he steps off the boat in Kirkwall’s harbor. He wrinkles his nose but continues on, noticing the grime and poverty all across the city.

He may be a Warden, yes, but first and foremost, he is a _healer._

And he thinks he can do some real good here.

_._

He decides to set up his clinic in one of the worst parts of Darktown. There’s not much for him to work with, but he manages to find a small, abandoned building and calls it home. 

He didn’t bring much from Ferelden, considering that he was basically running for his life. A couple of bandages, blankets, a few lyrium potions, and a handful of elfroot. He’ll need to go and look for more later, but it’s enough for a few days. 

So Anders sits there and waits. And waits. And waits. 

It’s not until the third day, when he had almost given up home, that a woman peeks hesitantly through the door. 

“ -- I heard there’s a healer here.” 

He shoots up from the chair he had been resting in, noticing the way she cradled her arm against her chest, and lets her into his clinic with a smile. 

.

Anders sets a small bowl of milk outside his door a few weeks after his clinic has been open. 

Every morning he finds the dish empty, and he hopes that it’s actually a cat drinking it, not some person. 

Though, if it is a person, he’s not going to complain. He’ll help in any way he can.

But he _does_ miss Ser Pounce-a-lot. 

.

A gang has set their headquarters close to where he works. 

He figured it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, but he will _not_ let them scare away his patients. 

He ambushes them late one night, taking them out quickly (their fighting is mediocre at best), and disposes their bodies before morning. 

Looks like his time with the Wardens _was_ good for something.

.

The boy laying in front of him has been shot too close to the heart. 

Anders knows it’s hopeless as soon as he’s set on the table, but his hands glow blue and he _tries,_ tries to save this boy who’s barely lived his life and who’s mother is crying only a few feet away. 

He pushes his magic into the boy’s chest, but the arrow’s lodged in too deep and he can’t reach it in time and the boy’s stopped breathing and his hands are covered in blood and -- 

He’s failed. 

Anders sags against the table, the blue light in his hands blinking out. A wave of exhaustion hits him as he struggles to keep his eyes open, struggles to tell the mother that her son is dead because _he_ failed. 

He’s a failure. 

The woman gathers her boy in her arms and Anders turns, giving her a moment of privacy as she sobs over what he couldn’t save. 

And tears fill his own eyes, but he doesn’t cry. He can mourn later, but he’s got a job to do, and he can’t let anyone else die. 

_Failure, failure, failure._

He gently guides the woman to the back of his clinic and sits her on his bed, telling her that she can stay as long as she’d like, no questions asked. 

Amidst her tears, she thanks him for trying. 

_Failure, failure, failure._

That hits Anders hard. He could have tried harder, he thinks as he goes back to his work, he could have _tried_ harder. 

What good is a healer that can’t save everyone?

.

Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks he’s back in the Circle. 

The walls close in on him as he struggles to breathe, shaking and curled up in a little ball on his bed. 

He can’t focus, his eyes are wild, _he needs to get out of here --_

The shaking eventually leaves him, but the nightmares never do. 

 _This_ is why he has to save them all. 

.

Anders finds a pregnant woman sitting outside his clinic, waiting for him while he had gone to gather herbs. 

She explains that she doesn’t know when she’s supposed to give birth, but she just wants the baby to be safe. 

He can tell that the baby’s probably going to come out in a few days, and a quick medical examination proves that both the mother and the child look healthy. 

He offers his bed in the back room because he doesn’t want her on in the slums when she’s this close, insisting that he finds the floor very comfortable, and after a moment’s hesitation, she accepts. 

A few days later, he helps her give birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. 

.

Karl’s been locked up in Kirkwall’s Circle. 

Anders can’t fight the sinking feeling in his gut when he hears. He’s been so busy since he opened up his clinic and has barely had the chance to talk to Karl since he arrived, but to hear that his friend has been taken away nearly kills him. 

He begins to make plans to break him out, hoping that he isn’t too late. 

_(Anders is not the same after he finds out that he is.)_

_._

Wiping the sweat from his brow and the blood from his hands, Anders turns to his last patient of the day, a woman, who, by the looks of her, seems perfectly healthy. 

Kneeling in front of her, he tries to ignore the way she flinches and moves away from him, and asks what’s wrong. 

“I don’t -- they _took_ me and I don’t -- want it.” 

He frowns, his hands glowing blue as he examines her, only confused until he sees the baby growing inside of her. 

“Can you help me, ser?” 

Justice roars inside of him, but Anders fights back, pushing him down. He will not let Justice scare this girl further. 

“Of course I can,” he replies, his voice gentle, hiding his rage, as he helps the girl up and onto the table. “This’ll only take a minute.” 

A few days later, Justice gets his revenge. 

.

Because of how much Anders has helped, the people of Darktown feel like it’s their responsibility to protect him when anyone starts asking around. 

He’s grateful, of course, but when people are _dying_ for his sake, he tells them to stop. 

They don’t, and the amount of bodies and the guilt nearly crushes him. 

These people are dead because of him. They died for _him_. 

Why couldn’t he save them all?

_Failure, failure, failure._

And yet they still protect him, regardless of how many he can’t save.

This is his least favorite part of being a healer. 

.

Anders begins to fiddle with anti-pregnancy charms. 

Once he’s managed to perfect them, he makes them into pendants and leaves them in a little bowl by his door, offering them to any woman who wants one. 

But he can’t protect all of them and he can’t kill of their attackers, no matter how much he wants to. 

He just has to do what he can, and hope that it’s enough. 

.

Even though he spends his days and nights helping Darktown’s people, he doesn’t forget about the mages he left behind in Ferelden. 

It’s _his_ fault that they’re locked up the way that they are. The templars don’t want another mage successfully escaping seven times. 

Kirkwall’s mages are treated just as poorly. Templars roam the streets only to catch apostates and if the people of Darktown hadn’t been protecting him so well, then he would have been taken long ago. 

Anders knows that’s it’s near impossible for just one man to save all of them, but he can damn well try. He owes them that much, at least. 

.

He’s done some real good here in Darktown. 

Anders saves more than he loses, but he’s not perfect. And every crying mother, father, sibling only proves that further. 

And that’s the burden of a healer. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
